The Endless Gallop: The Sequel to Torn From Hope
by aelwyn
Summary: Daine and Numair find themselves swept off in another adventure involving a mysterious equine disease, kidnappers, and, of course, ever-present danger.
1. The Beginning

The Endless Gallop: Sequel to Torn From Hope  
Chapter One  
By stazsong magick

A/N: I'm finally back to writing! It's been months. I went through an I-wanna-be-a-musician phase for a while and was practicing constantly, but I've toned down on music. At least for now. It's so confusing. I don't know what I want to do with my life. Write? Or music? Either way, I'll have to practice a ton if I want to be any good at it. 

ANYWAY!... this will seem slightly odd, slightly different, especially if you happened to read one of my older fanfics. Numair is already very OOC. I'm also going to try something I've never done before, a sub-plot or two. Let me know if you have any good extra ideas. Reviews are nice.

Disclaimer: None of the characters in here belong to me, I own only the idea & plot and whatever characters I decide to add in (which have been none yet). Etc etc.

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Winter was coming. The forests of Tortall were on fire with the bright colors of the autumn leaves. Squirrels and other rodents could be soon storing away stashes of supplies for the coming months. As for a certain wildmage named Daine... the palace cooks would often find her in the kitchen store room, hastily sneaking large rations of nuts and others of the lot into her arms, trying to hide her (obvious) awkwardness.  
"Just getting a snack," she said one such time, smiling weakly and attempting to slide away. The cook's apprentice, a boy about seventeen, caught her arm. Everything she'd been trying to hide spilled out onto the formerly spotless ground.  
"A snack of pecans and cashews, eh?" he joked, then pulled a small sack out of his apron pocket. "Maybe this will help." He helped her gather all of the nuts into the bag. "So, what's all this for?" he finally asked.  
Daine remained with her previous face: "I'm hungry, and..."  
"... and you're going to give them to your squirrel friends," the main chef said, winking knowingly. His face straightened. "But this is the last time I'll allow it, Daine. Any more twilight disappearances of my food will force me to bolt the door at night."  
The wildmage blushed. "I'm sorry." With a small glance at the group of disapproving faces, Daine spun around. She then hurried out into the cooler hall, where the harvest moon shone brightly through a window. A lone squirrel stood in the splash of light. It immediately ran up to her joyfully.  
—More food? More food?— It's mind-voice squeaked hopefully.  
Daine nodded, and suddenly a bevy of watchful squirrels emerged from the shadows. Each had a worried look to it.   
—Thank you much,— one said, —You are the one reason our families will survive this Great Cold.—  
Daine smiled. "I won't be able to get you any more food from here, though. The cook'll skin me alive."  
—Oh.— The speaker's face fell. He beckoned to the squirrels behind him, and they all gathered around Daine. She set her hoard on the ground and each rodent took a few choice pieces, then quickly scampered away. Within a few seconds they had all disappeared, all except for one, which seemed to be the leader.  
—I don't know what to do,— it sighed, —We have looked but we find nothing! Nothing!—  
"I— I could go into the market tomorrow and see if I could find you something," Daine suggested. "There might be a vender or two."  
—Please!— the squirrel said, —Anything would help us.—  
"I couldn't make any promises."  
—Anything would help us.— The pleading, desperate look on the squirrel's face made her feel guilty.  
"Fine," she sighed, "Meet here tomorrow, same time, then?"  
The bushy-tailed rodent nodded vigorously. —I thank you—, it squeaked, before disappearing into the shadows and out the window.  
Daine sighed again, then leaned her side up against the stone wall. Only a week ago a squirrel had come to her to plead help; none of its kind had enough food to last through winter, and she was their only hope. But where could all of the forest's walnuts and acorns gone? It gave her a headache to think about it.  
A sudden prickling at the back of her neck told her someone was behind her, but before she could turn around, an arm snaked its way around her waist and someone's lips were in her hair.  
"Where have you been?" they murmured. Daine spun around and there he was, the mage Numair. His hair was down and rumpled-looking. He'd obviously been sleeping, then woken up to find she was gone.  
"Getting food," she answered.  
Numair smiled grimly. He knew what the food was for. "Why not just tell the head cook why you need it? It would save a lot of needless trouble — and sleep."  
Daine resisted the urge to cry out in frusteration. "Because he doesn't care, that's why! None of them care."  
The mage pulled her against his chest, which was surprisingly warm after the cold wall. "They'll find a way. Why do you think the squirrels haven't gone extinct yet? Surely this — this famine, or whatever it is — has happened before in history. And you weren't there either. And they survived to live on to today."  
"If that's what you believe, then I'll believe it now. But only until I find out the truth."  
"Stubborn as a mule, that one," Numair remarked airily, grinning.  
"I'm serious."  
"Very serious."  
"Numair!" Daine cried. "What's wrong with y— oh, gods!"  
Numair frowned. "What now?"  
Daine struggled out of his extremely firm grip. "I forgot to tend to one of the stable horses; I was to see to it earlier; it has a sickness of some sort!"  
He sighed. "Might as well go heal it now."  
They both took off down the hall, took a left, took a right, opened the door — then, flying along, Daine dashed into the palace stables. She knew immediately which horse was the sick one; she could feel its pain quite noticably.  
The ill horse's stall was eight stalls down her left. Sliding open the door, she winced. The horse was down on the ground, groaning something awful. If you ignored the fact that it was very dirty from lying down all night, it could be seen as a very beautiful horse. Its blonde-white was stained with manure, mud, and full of bits of hay. The rest of it was a pearly white color. Looking over at the horse's grain bin, Daine could see a full ration of food remaining. The horse had never eaten since it had taken ill.  
"Poor thing," she whispered, then immediately bent down and began to search through it mentally to find the source. But she couldn't. It was like the disease did not exist — but it did, it had to, Daine could sense the infection. But where at? It was impossible.   
Perhaps it was the whole squirrel catastrophe, perhaps it was the fact that it was two A.M., but something inside her collasped. Daine gave up. "I can't do it, Numair," she sobbed. "I don't know why, but I can't."  
"Try again in the morning," he suggested.  
"No," she cried fretfully, "It won't work. It won't ever work! Squirrels, horses, what's next?!"

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A/N: Like? Yes? No? I'm still trying to decide to continue it or not. Positive reviews will help convince me to ;)


	2. Complications

The Endless Gallop: Sequel to Torn From Hope  
Chapter Two: Complications  
By stazsong magick

A/N: Somewhat hurried chapter. I hope it won't sound to quick. I also hope you don't hate me for what's happened to the poor horsies... I hate it too; I'm a horse-freak. But it's gotta be done. It's not even what the real plot will be *oh no!! I gave it away!*. All I can tell from here is that this, whenever it's done, will be really long.

Oh, and thanks to all my reviewers for taking your precious time to review! I don't mind negative comments either. Anything helps me.

Disclaimer: All is property of Tamora Pierce, except for plot, and the horses Dariou (white stallion) and Blanche (mare, only mentioned, will be seen next chapter).

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~Chapter Two: Signs  
  
Daine was woken the next morning by a very persistant voice inside her head. She blinked blearily — the sun still had yet to rise — as the room around her came into focus. Then she noticed the little robin sitting on her knee (she had kicked the covers off during a fitful dream only hours before).  
  
—Wake up, Miss Daine!— it cried shrilly.  
  
"What is it?" she mumbled groggily.  
  
—In the stables; another horse has taken sick, and the other is near death!—  
  
That statement quickly shook the remaining blanket of sleep away. Daine quickly climbed out of bed and ran out into the hall, still wearing her nightclothes. "Who sent you?" she wondered to the bird.  
  
—One of the stableboys. He was saying the birds around here are abnormally smart, and decided to use one of us as a messenger.— He said this with an extremely arrogant air.  
  
"Thank you," she murmured, then ran outside, then into the stables for the second time that day. One stable hand met her by the doorway as she bent over, gasping for breath.  
  
"Blanche began whinnying frantically 'bout an hour ago, then keeled over to the ground. No obvious reasons yet," the boy said urgently, "And Dariou, the horse you saw to earlier, looks dead." Noting the alarmed look on Daine's face, he added quickly, "We checked for his heartbeat; it's still there. He breathes. But I don't know how much longer—" He cut himself off as Daine breezed by him and down the aisle to Dariou's stall.  
  
The stable hand was absolutely right. At first glance, one would think the poor silvery stallion on the ground dead, but at closer examination, Daine noticed a slight rising and falling of its chest. "Gods, don't let it be too late..." she whispered to herself, then, closing her eyes, let her magic flow into the horse.  
  
Rest and temporary memory loss of the squirrel predicament had done no good. She examined every inch of the stallion, from its slow-beating hearts to its intestines for possible colic problems. But there were none. Dariou stirred slightly, then settled into the straw-scattered ground. A soft, whispery groan escaped its lips as Daine opened her eyes and let her magic flow back into her. At least the stallion was no longer unconscious — a small improvement.  
  
"What's wrong with you?" Daine asked softly. Maybe an interview would help her find the cause.  
  
—I... don't know.— The horse's voice was a weak, laboring sigh in her mind. —Yesterday. Yesterday I felt odd... and then I began to hurt...—  
  
"Where at?"  
  
—Everywhere. I can't figure it out.— Dariou tried to laugh but began coughing rackily. His whole whitish body shook once, hard. —Will you be able to help me?—  
  
Something wet was on her cheek, sliding downward. Was rainwater dripping from the roof? Looking up, she saw the first rays of daylight peeking through small slats and cracks. It was then that she first realized she was crying.  
  
—Will you be able to— The horse coughed again, —to help me?—  
  
No, an evil little voice in her head said. Daine turned her head away in shame, feeling her face flush up with guilt, feeling the tears dripping down her face warm slightly with the heat.  
  
Dariou the stallion shook all over once again, then dropped into a motionless coma, disturbed only now and then by a series of racking coughs.  
  
*****  
  
"You would think the infection would be in the lungs or some such place," Daine commented sadly to Numair later on that day, "One of the major symptoms is coughing." The pages and few squires in the hall where they sat milled around them, oblivious to Daine's pangs of sadness.   
  
"I would try to help you," he said, "But I know nothing about healing except the very basics. I'm not a healer." Numair stared out one of the tall windows letting melancholy sunshine in. "The palace stables isn't the only place hit with this disease thing. A few fiefs nearby have reported that their village barns are emptying out quick. No one knows what the disease is."  
  
"If only the whole kingdom's animals did not depend on me for their health," Daine murmured, slumped over her lunch with her elbows on the table. She didn't care what her table manners looked like. The scrutinizing glances of passer-byers didn't bother her at all, at least not now. Suddenly she bolted up straight. "I can't take it! It just makes me so mad, to be so useless and... and *stupid!*"  
  
"You're not stupid," Numair said seriously. "You're smart, and tal—"  
  
"Then why can't I heal anymore? Why?"  
  
"Mental exhaustion?" he suggested timidly.  
  
"No!" she burst out, "It's not that! It just... oh gods, why me, why now, why the horses?"  
  
"The gods have reasons for everything."  
  
"Yeah, and this, time, their reason is that they want to destroy the whole equine population. And me. Definately me. It's driving me mad!"  
  
"No..."  
  
"Yes."  
  
Numair knew better than to argue further. Words were useless against the stubborness of her will.   



	3. And so the plot thickens

The Endless Gallop: Sequel to Torn From Hope  
Chapter Three: And so the plot thickens...  
By stazsong magick

A/N: Might be awhile before next chapter appears. Case of writer's block again, ugh.

Disclaimer: All is property of Tamora Pierce, except for plot, and the horses Dariou (white stallion) and Blanche.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~Chapter Two: Signs  
  
Chapter Three: And so the plot thickens...  
  
The mare Blanche's stall was directly across from Dariou's. She could hear every noise he made, every grunt of pain, and whenever he was conscious, every plead for help. He had been motionless since earlier that morning, before Daine had checked over Blanche herself. The night before she had contracted the disease. She hoped sincerely that she would never decline to Dariou's condition.  
  
Her keen ears bent toward his presence. She been attentive of him, ready to greet him and offer a morale booster should he awake, but so far he had been totally quiet except for the steady rhythm of his breathing. Speaking of which...  
  
Blanche pressed herself against the front wall of her stall, listening with all her ability. The steady sounds of Dariou's intakes of air had suddenly slowed down. He breathed in. He breathed out, sounding even more ragged than usual. He gasped for more air, as if his lungs weren't working properly.   
  
Eyes wide, Blanche wheeled around in her stall, frantic. She let out one high-pitched whinny, then another. The horses in stalls nearby shifted their weight, irrate.   
  
—Will you shut it?— said one.  
  
—I'm trying to get some rest here. I've got a big day tomorrow!— said another.  
  
—Yeah, a ladies' ride through the countryside,— joked a large draft-bred gelding.  
  
—No, my squire is taking me in a jousting contest.—  
  
—Knight-masters provide their squires with their own horses, dimwit!—  
  
Blanche whinnied frantically, pacing her stall. —Daine! Can you hear me?— she shouted, wishing she had fingers to cross.  
  
—Shut your muzzle!— the gelding demanded.   
  
—No!— she shouted in reply, —Dariou's in trouble!—  
  
  
********  
  
Back at the castle, Daine was fingering through one book after another. The one she held was titled 'Common Equine Ailments'. She was looking through the glossary of different diseases, looking for one with similar symptoms, when a harried-looking palace scribe ran into her, knocking the book to the floor.  
  
"Sorry," he gasped, "Looking for Daine, emergency—" He stopped talking as he noticed who he was talking to. "Daine! There's a commotion in the stables. Best that you see to it. Must get back to work." He ran off again. Daine noticed that he held a sheaf of papers in his hand. He had obviously been stopped in the middle of something important.  
  
But there was no time for thought. Daine, ignoring the looks of nearby readers, disturbed by her sudden movements, ran out into the hall. Out there she could hear a horse's panicked whinny quite clearly. Within moments it was joined in with others.   
  
Daine's thoughts jumbled together, and she didn't notice where exactly she was going until she arrived outside in the bright sunlight. There was not a cloud in the sky; too cheery, she thought, for a day like this.  
  
Almost immediately the stables were upon her. She was so hurried to get inside that she didn't notice the tall looming figure in front of her. Daine ran headlong into him.  
  
Numair grimaced, then smiled worriedly at her. "I knew you'd get out here as soon as possible," he said, "The horses are going mad."  
  
Daine could hear one of the horses calling out to her in trepidation. —Dariou's dead! Dariou's dead!— the horse shrilled. She reconized the voice. It was Blanche, the little gray mare she had treated earlier that day.  
  
She ran a straight path to Dariou's stall, Numair trailing along unsurely. Blanche had to have been mistaken. Dariou couldn't be dead, not yet, not when she hadn't figured a cure! Daine threw open the door and knelt down inside where the stallion lay, motionless.  
  
No! She took the silvery horse's head in her arms and layed it her lap. His eyes remained closed. "Dariou, I'm getting to closer to finding what the infection you have is," she said," she said encouragingly, "Once I do, you'll be all right, and Blanche too. And all the horses throughout Tortall."  
  
She looked up and noticed Numair in Dariou's stall also, although he was edging away slightly, with an odd look on his face. He fought his instinct to run at insanity. "Daine..." he started, "He's... he's... he's *not with us*."  
  
Daine frowned, then stared at the stallion. "He — no!" She leaped up and the horse's limp head fell to the ground pitifully.  
  
"I — I'm sorry." Numair held out one arm to her, and she ran to it sobbing. He pulled her in close and within moments his shoulder was dripping wet from her tears. "At least he's not in pain anymore."  
  
Daine shook her head. "No, I suppose not. But I was never able to help him! I couldn't numb the pain, or even slow down the course of the disease."  
  
Suddenly a mocking laugh sounded above them. Daine wiped a tear from her face and looked up angrily. Why would someone be laughing now, of all times? She was about to demand why someone would be so happy when something struck both her and Numair in the head. Her mind fell into oblivion.  
  
Neither of them saw who the laugher's owner was.  



	4. Pain

The Endless Gallop: Sequel to Torn From Hope  
Chapter Four: Pain  
By starzsong magick

A/N: Sorry, my back was aching while I wrote this and it made me kinda grouchy... which kinda resulted in me doing some mean things to Daine and Numair. Don't worry, this has a happy ending and no one (that's in TP's books) dies.

Disclaimer: You know what goes here. Nothing is mine.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~Chapter Two: Signs  
  
It seemed to be around midnight when Daine awoke with a throbbing head. Eyes closed, she could feel a gentle breeze sending goosebumps up her arms in the autumn chill. She groaned and rolled over to her side and felt grass beneath her. Rubbing her arms to warm them up, she suddenly gasped out in pain. Her left lower arm felt as if it were full of needles, and upon opening her arms and looking at her hand, she winced when she noticed it was covered in blood from her arm.   
  
Sitting up, she glanced down and nearly cried out in shock. Her arm was broken, and as the pain (which had been numbed when she was unconscious) set in, Daine began sobbing quietly. It was then that she looked straight ahead into the distance.  
  
She was in a meadow, with large stone walls surrounding it. Craning her neck around, Daine guessed that the fort which enclosed them was about a half-mile in area, maybe slightly less. But mathematics made her head pound nearly as bad as her broken arm. She dreaded finding out what the knock on the head had done to her.   
  
The wind picked up again, and Daine shivered. She desperately wished she'd put on something warmer that morning — apparantly breeches and a loose shirt weren't enough in this weather. The cold tears running down her face weren't helping.  
  
Someone groaned to her right, and Daine jumped slightly. Using the light of the full moon she could make out Numair, spread-eagled on the ground. He stirred, then spoke. "Daine? Where are you?"  
  
She swallowed the urge her broken arm created to yell, and said hoarsly, "I'm here. Sit up."  
  
Apparantly Numair had not been injured as much as she, because he immediately jumped up to where Daine sat when he saw the blood pooled on the ground beside her. "Good gods... what happened?" he whispered, staring.  
  
"I don't know," she gasped, "I woke up... and then I saw this."  
  
"We need to get you to a healer," Numair said, "Now."  
  
Daine looked at him, an expression of sarcasm on her face. "You think there's any healers around her? Or even a hedgewitch?" She beckoned to the free meadow land around them with her unhurt arm.   
  
"That still doesn't erase the fact that you still need a healing," Numair remarked, frowning. "We'd better find one — somehow or another. Is that old blood, or are you still bleeding?"  
  
She shook her head. "I don't know." Glancing at her arm, she went on, "I think it's bleeding still, but not as freely as before." Daine nodded at the spot of dark blood on the ground.  
  
Numair stood, and she did the same. "First we need to get that into a sling," he said. Sighing in resignation, he ripped off a whole sleeve of his shirt, and once he was done tearing it in several other places, he motioned for her to come forward.  
  
"Bend," he directed, and Daine bent her arm until her elbow pointing out. Tears began running down her face once more as she bit her lip, trying not to cry out. Once the sling was finished, Numair looked at the wall around them, the closest section being about 100 yards away.  
  
"Who put us here, and why?" he wondered aloud, and Daine found herself wanting to know the exact same thing. Suddenly he set off toward an area of wall which appeared to have crumbled with age.  
  
Daine treked through the knee-high grass behind him, trying to take her mind off her throbbing arm. It was then that she realized something, in a more normal state of mind, she should have thought of first.  
  
—Is anyone around here?— she called out in her mind-voice.  
  
As if in reply to a question not asked to it, the wind blew harder than ever, and Daine found herself shivering uncontrolably.   
  
—Hello?—  
  
There was no reply, which struck Daine as odd. How could this meadow, and the large dark forms of the trees she could spot in the distance, not be a home to any kind of wildlife?  
  
Her head pounded harder than even in response, so she decided she'd try and find the reason later — after her arm was healed.  
  
At last the reached the wall, and upon inspection, she found it to be about ten feet high. Ten feet of crumbling, slippery stone, in the blackness of night with only the moon to guide them. Daine was about to open her mouth to say so when Numair shook his head at her.  
  
"I'm sorry," he said, "I don't know what we did to deserve this." For the second time that day he drew her in for a hug, this time being careful around her injured arm. They stood for a moment, then at last turned to the task before them. "I'll go first," Numair said quietly, then began to cautiously step over the rubble and climb the wall. Daine held her breath as he slipped once, then twice as rock crumbled underneath him. A knock on the head, which had already been knocked into earlier, could possible mean fatality.  
  
He reached the very top of the wall and, gripping it tightly, nodded for Daine to follow. She found her first foothold and heaved herself up onto a small ledge. The emptiness of sound, other than the wind and her and Numair, scared her. Shuddering, she made herself again forget about her wild magic problem and focus at the task at hand. One handed was bad enough... but to lose concentration too...  
  
Numair held out a hand to her from the top, and Daine was just stretching up when she heard a sudden crumbling.  
  
"Oh no," she gasped, and the stone above her, on which Numair was leaning, gave way. He toppled to the other side, leaving Daine still grasping the remaining portion of the wall in shock, still reaching up for Numair's departed hand.  
------------------

A/N: On a happier note... If anyone who's reading this is someone who comes back for chapter updates, you're welcome to leave your e-mail (in a review of course!) and I'll gladly let you know when a new chapter is on. Just make sure you say so.


	5. Chapter Five

The Endless Gallop: Sequel to Torn From Hope  
Chapter Four:   
By starzsong magick

A/N: Oh wow. Just... wow. It's been months since I've written for this site at all. I found a chapter screw-up too, so that was fixed. Yeah. And this is my update (finally!). Sorry to all my reviewers.   
Has anyone here finished reading the fifth Harry Potter book? I did! I cried. It was sad, much sadder than the fourth one (when Cedric died). But that has nothing to do with this story so I'll stop babbling and let you read!

Disclaimer: You know what goes here. Nothing is mine, except for characters you don't recognize from the books.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
Daine sank down onto the ledge, shaking with pain and the fright of Numair's fall.  
  
"Numair?" she called desperately over the wall. The only answer was the soft breeze brushing against the tall grass in the meadow. The sound reminded her of a cobra's hiss, the hiss it made before striking...  
  
Daine bit her lip and stood, attempting to see over the wall. But trying to see down to the other side was impossible without climbing higher. Filled with terror at what could lie ahead, she continued upwards, taking a brief break when she was nearly at the top. "Numair?" she tried again, tentatively. No answer  
  
Then she spotted him, unconscious below. Ignoring her arm and all her other small aches and pains, she hurried down to the other side, slipping ever so slightly on the dew-covered rocks. The full moon shone silently above her, a beacon of light, her grim spectator.  
  
"Oh gods, please let Numair be okay!" she pleaded, then bent down beside him.  
  
Numair's chest was rising and falling softly with every small breath he took. He was alive, but for how long?  
  
A small chattering noise startled her. She turned around in a flash and noticed a chipmunk staring up at her, curious. For a brief moment their eyes met; Daine's blue-gray ones and the rodent's brown ones. Suddenly it took off into the brush.  
  
"No, wait!" she cried, but the chipmunk did not reply. Within moments the sound of its flight through the grass had died away into the darkness.  
  
Sinking down into the ground, Daine put her face in her blood-smeared hands. This can't be happening, she thought. Where did my magic go? Why? Who brought us here? And how long can I survive out here like this?  
  
She began to cry again, tears dripping down her face, mixing with blood. The wind continued to blow unfailingly, chilling her. It brought words.  
  
'Listen to me,' it said, 'I can help you.' The final word was long and drawn-out, almost spooky.  
  
Not quite in a great state of mind, Daine whimpered, "No you can't. Nobody can. I'm useless. Dariou–"  
  
She was cut off by the harsh voice of the wind. '–died not because of you. Not all is what you think. Not all ailments are natural.' There was a small pause. Then, it continued. 'I go everywhere. I can travel through a palace, explore every room, in less than a minute. I know all; I can find anything. The cause of Dariou's death, and the possible deaths of many more, will not be found here. Weeping does not do any good; you know that. I know you are not stupid.'  
  
Although the wind did not mention it, she knew it had gone. The air was still, and everything seemed somehow muted. Somehow Daine believed she had imagined the whole thing, but deep inside of her, she knew the wind was right. Sitting around would not solve a thing.  
  
Watching the still Numair, Daine decided to do what she could to make him confortable, then think about what the wind had told her. Filling with resolution, she realized that all really wasn't what it seemed. Perhaps there was a moral to be learned.   
  
"But for then I will have to cope with the present."

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

A/N: I found it a bit corny. Hmm...


End file.
